


Here's Looking

by Barbarismbeginsathome



Category: Death Machine (1994), Romasanta
Genre: M/M, pure fluff tbh, these two are too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:45:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbarismbeginsathome/pseuds/Barbarismbeginsathome
Summary: Scott doesn't understand why Antonio keeps staring at him.





	Here's Looking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karvolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karvolf/gifts).



"Is... is this common?" 

Antonio's voice was soft the way it always was when he felt embarrassed for asking about something. Scott had been trying to break him of that habit- it always made him feel like a kindergarten teacher. 

"Is what common?" Scott asked, in a too-casual "I'm your equal" tone. He was standing in front of the bathroom counter, combing the pomade his stylist recommended through his freshly washed and dried hair. For $30 it had better make his hair bulletproof, he thought. 

Antonio stood behind him, sleepy and awkward in the sweatpants and t-shirt that were a little too small for his bulky frame- Scott had tried to teach him to use the dryer the week before. 

"Um-" Antonio bit his lip. "I mean, do all men in this place take such care with their hair?" He was flushed from wars to neck now and Scott wondered what exactly he was getting at. He placed his tortoiseshell comb carefully on the bathroom counter and turned to look at Antonio, who was still staring intently at Scott's hair. 

"...I mean, I guess it's common? Not everyone does, but I do. What's the matter, Tony?" Scott felt that nickname slipping out more and more frequently lately. 

Antonio shrugged and looked away. "It's nothing," he mumbled. It was Not Nothing. 

"What? I have to be at work in an hour, spill it." 

Scott saw Antonio's brow furrow, then relax with realization. He wasn't good with idioms just yet. He smiled sheepishly and brushed a lock of Scott's hair off his forehead. "I was just wondering if you ever left your hair loose. At home, most men I knew were... like stray dogs. Not a comb in sight, but you.... it's nice, your hair. That's all I wanted to say." 

The feeling of his hand tingled on Scott's forehead for the rest of the day. 

-

"That WASN'T all you wanted to say, was it?" Scott asked. They were sitting at the kitchen table, Antonio carefully eating the lo mein Scott picked up after work for fear of spilling it on the tablecloth. That was a bust; he spilled it down his shirt as his eyes darted up to meet Scott's. 

"Hm?" He frantically dabbed at the remnants of crushed noodles and soy sauce sticking to his shirt. 

Scott glared down at his own plate. "You think I'm... not right or something. The way you stared at me when I was doing my hair... you said you didn't care that I was "homosexual-" your word, not mine- but you looked at me like I was a fucking lunatic or something."

The word "lunatic" wasn't meant to sting as much as it had, and Scott hated himself when he saw Antonio flinch slightly. Then his cheeks reddened and he stared past Scott, gazing at the refrigerator like-

"It's beautiful. Your hair, I mean to say- you're beautiful, I'm sorry, God I'm sorry-" 

It was Scott's turn to drop his fork.


End file.
